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<title>MIDNIGHT DANCING by COMPULSIVEGUTS</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28012371">MIDNIGHT DANCING</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/COMPULSIVEGUTS/pseuds/COMPULSIVEGUTS'>COMPULSIVEGUTS</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Five Nights at Freddy's</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Grief, M/M, dancing with a corpse, denial and anger over death, fredbear's dead, just sorta the inbetween of them tho, springtrap and springbonnie are the same person</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:53:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,099</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28012371</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/COMPULSIVEGUTS/pseuds/COMPULSIVEGUTS</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Finally, Springtrap awakens. But.. he's alone. Far too alone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fredbear/Spring Bonnie (Five Nights at Freddy's), Fredbear/Springtrap (Five Nights at Freddy's)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>MIDNIGHT DANCING</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>MIDNIGHT DANCING.</p><p>The clock chimes solemnly, striking silence startling the somewhat-settled peace of the abandoned restaurant.<br/>The diner sat still, movement halted inside of the building. Wallpaper peeling, insects crawling around and making their mark on the presence of the once-childish and once-adored dining area. Entities void of the area, not many souls choosing to reside through the cold and lonely restaurant. In fact - only one had chosen to stay.</p><p>Not even *chose*. Forced to stay through whatever stupid compelling thing called to his spirit, forcing it to stay ground in it’s spot - rooted painfully through whatever had crawled into him and died within his suit. Brought back from whatever half-baked hibernation he’d been in for *god knows* how long… it was cruel. *Unfair*. It was unfair, being brought back to consciousness in a world where he knew he didn’t have anything. Not a single soul lay here for him…</p><p>*Merely the empty hollow of one who was once a friend.*</p><p>His dear friend’s lifeless shell strewn in the corner of the room he’d travelled to, bones full of ache and misery. Everything felt loose and odd - painful and screeching against his newfound company in the vessel. He can feel the pain, retaining sharply through his own mechanic movements. Loud drags of metal screaming across the tiled and dirtied floor of the pizzeria (which was all a new area to him - yet oddly familiar, more than likely thanks to the new emergence of his forced possession,) as he walks, scanning rooms and trying to see if he was still there. Maybe, in some uncovered and untouched part of the arena, he could find a lost friend.<br/>And maybe, with whatever newfound desire he had to see his previous coworker, he’d still be alive. Maybe it was like it was with him, that he’d magically regained whatever small sliver of a life he could have through a miracle.</p><p>Inside, he knew it was impossible. Painfully so - it made his dead and unbeating heart ache with grief. So, stood at the backroom door… he pushed it open, a loud and painful creaking meeting his ears as he slowly stepped in, eyes scanning the room with the most importance. Blurred vision finally spots the fur of unmoving yellow, settled in the crease of the room and nearly bleeding into the greys of the room. With each step closer, he could finally see the deep stains that riddled the bear’s slightly-fuzzy design. Hollow sockets, springs holding him together as he sat slumped against the ground. Compared to his own heavy rot, his counterpart had it a lot easier… though he could see the damage of rust and the stains of what had been a kid’s blood and brain when he knelt closer. He can remember the day like it was yesterday (because it kind of was, in a sense), where all hell broke loose within the diner and got it closed down for good. It aches him to see his friend in such damp condition, pushed up and into the disgusting corner that sat too good for him. He deserved better. And that brings the bitter taste of disgust to him. *It wasn’t fair*. Nothing seemed fair - absolutely nothing was *fair* about this, not even remotely. It was like the universe stacking up on tragedy, between the bite and the man stuck inside him to the fact that it just had to be *them*. Him and Fred, a duo made for time! So perfect until it just had to be ruined, crushed by the stupid ways the universe had decided to line up.</p><p>Pushing aside whatever distaste the sight had brought him, he pauses for a moment before hesitantly scooping the shell of an accomplice into his arms, strain on his arms little to nothing - not even strain on *his* arms, only bringing trouble within the body nested in the cave of his body. Still, he pushes his hands under the dully yellowed mech and drags it over to the mahogany table, cringing internally at the sound of creaking springs scraping against the floor before sitting him down on the table to the best of his ability. His cold heart burns as he sees how loosely his limbs hang from the table, so motionless. So *lifeless*, void of any sign of what his friend was. This Fred wasn’t his - it was a fake. A sick fake, an empty phantom of what used to be his beloved friend.<br/>Part of him wants to scream - he wants to yell, smash the last remainder of the fake into a pile of metal, deformed and *gone*. He wants it to be gone, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything rash. Simply stare.</p><p>So he stares. He stares and he stares and he *stares* because that’s all he can do, unable to cry or scream or do anything at all. Simply stare at the hollow ‘carcass’ of who once was Fredbear.</p><p>After a bit of staring at the animatronic (and wishing it was alive), he reaches his arms out. Leaning in slightly, the rabbit hooks one of the bear’s arms over his rotting shoulder, taking his other hand into his own - pulling it up slightly to a dragged stand. The bear’s a tad taller than he was - so, naturally, his feet drag behind slightly as he starts to pull him out to a wider area. Foot knocking against the table, Spring drags him farther along.</p><p>It takes a while until he’s at the open area of the stage - newer animatronics gone and moved to whatever new location they’d reside. But he doesn’t care. Spring didn’t even *know* they existed until their souls came to taunt him before escaping. *No, not him - but whatever foul creature was there and nestled between his ribs*. Hoisting the empty suit up and closer to him, he can’t help but feel a tad safer. A bit closer, a bit warmer by the shell. The bear rested wholly on him, empty eyes meeting the decaying pair - if he imagined hard enough, maybe he could feel Fred’s gaze upon him, feel the movements of the leader as they swayed lightly. Every move was like a jab in his joints, painful and crushing but he continued. He continued and he danced, danced until he could feel his body collapsing in on itself. And even through that, he stays dancing.</p><p>Dancing and swaying until he couldn’t, until dusk turned to dawn and then to dusk again - just cherishing whatever time he had. And maybe, if he tried enough…</p><p>Then maybe, just maybe, Fred would come back.</p>
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